


First Impression

by ButterflyGhost



Category: due South
Genre: Acceptance, Coming Out, F/F, Hopeful Ending, Love at First Sight, Romance, Sibling Love, Sibling Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 14:38:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12890025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflyGhost/pseuds/ButterflyGhost
Summary: In which Frannie's world tilts sideways, her shoe betrays her and Ray's desk hates her. Elaine makes a fantastic first impression, Frannie not so much, while Ray discovers something new about his sister and the Vecchios only attack the ones they love. (Not Elaine though. Nobody attacks Elaine.)





	First Impression

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mizface](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizface/gifts).



> Happy Christmas mizface. This one's in response to your yen for first times (though this is just a first meeting) and happy love stories. There may be more - hell, there will be more. I ship these girls so hard.

The thing about being a Vecchio is, we talk too much. You have to talk too much. That way maybe one word in three gets through. Problem with that is, it doesn’t go down well in the real world. People think ‘that’s one crazy bitch who won’t shut up.’ Or in Ray’s case, ‘that’s one crazy bastard who won’t shut up.’ Ray gets away with it more than I do though, because, you know, he’s a man. Women are supposed to put up and shut up. Yeah, right. That’s not me. The day I shut up I’ll be dead. Maybe not even then, given the family tendency to haunt, but that’s another story.

 

Anyway, all that yakking does have its drawbacks. I’ve made some terrible first impressions. Worst first impression (well, one of the worst) was the first time I met Elaine. No surprises, I was talking too much. Actually, I wasn’t talking so much as yelling. Ray and me were arguing (not like that’s unusual) and I was following him through the station because he wouldn’t let me get in the last word. It doesn’t matter what we were arguing about, that’s not the point of this story. Point of the story is... well, we’ll get there. It was a stupid argument anyway, they all are. And it wasn’t really him I was angry with. It was the stupid anniversary of my stupid marriage and Ray happened to be in the wrong place that morning, so he got both barrels right in the face.

 

By the time we got to Ray’s desk we’d both realised how stupid we were being. I could see it in his face; he was trying to wrap things up, but just couldn’t. He had that desperate expression that he used to get with Angie like he wanted to run away, but men don’t run. Especially not from their little sister. It makes me feel sick sometimes when we fight. You wouldn’t think we love each other, but we do. Just, we were _born_  with our fists up. What can we ever do but fight? We’re Vecchios. Or Vecchii, if you’re gonna go all grammatical about it. Maybe I shoulda been a Vecchia, I don’t know. I always did think our name was sexist and stupid... can you believe we’ve even argued about that? He’d say I wasn’t a Vecchio, I was a Strega and did I ever shut up? Sometimes we get so stuck in an argument it’s scary. Same with my sister. Thank God none of us is anywhere near the nuclear button or we’d have pressed it by now. Just to get some quiet when the fallout settles and there’s nothing left but scorched earth.

 

Ray hadn’t figured out it was the anniversary, which was fine by me. Never been so glad that men – well, Vecchio men – don’t remember dates. The poor sap had no idea what was wrong. As for me, I was being a bitch, I knew it, and couldn’t stop it any more than he could. His colleagues were giving us sideways glances, and Ray’s eyes were bugging. He looked like his head was going to pop. I’m not surprised; I was even giving myself a headache. I’d reached shrill. If this didn’t stop soon only bats and dogs would hear me. Still, we were locked into it now. It wouldn’t stop until one of us was dragged away or I started throwing things. Ray never threw things, not plates, not punches. Maybe that's one reason I argue with him - I know it’s safe. Not like with - well. That doesn't matter anymore.

 

“Frannie!” Ray flung his arms up and gestured at the piles of paper on his desk, “I work here! This is not the time or place. Just back off and let me get to work. You’re not supposed to even be here!”

 

“Why not?” I tapped my foot and it made a satisfying ‘clack clack,’ so I kept tapping. I knew it annoyed him and it would stop me from scattering his paperwork all over the bullpen. “It’s a public building, I’m allowed to be here. I could be reporting a crime.”

 

“Yeah, but you’re not. You’re interfering with an officer performing his duties. In fact,” Ray narrowed his eyes, “if you don’t shut up and get out of here I could get you arrested.”

 

I narrowed my eyes right back. “And I’d sue you for wrongful arrest.”

 

Ray was taking a breath for some comeback or other when a female voice cut in. “Oh, hey, Ray. Here are those files for the Hilliard case.”

 

I turned to glare at the crazed maniac who dared interrupt the Vecchio siblings in full cry, and there she was. Funnily enough, I didn’t register at first she was African American. I just got sucked into her eyes. I can’t explain it. They were so warm, so kind, so humorous, even though she was risking life and limb by breaking up a Vecchio argument. And she _had_ to be doing it on purpose. All those men in the building, and of course it was a woman playing peacemaker. For once I couldn’t think of a thing to say, I just stood there with my mouth open. And then – well, wow. Then she smiled at me, and holy shit, the world tilted sideways. No, for real, it tilted. The right heel went on my nice new shoes, and I tipped over, caught my hip sharply on the corner of Ray’s desk. That woke me out of my trance. Even Ray’s furniture hates me sometimes. And maybe it was karma for all that clacking.

 

“Damn,” I squeaked and burst into tears.

 

Yeah, not my proudest moment. But Elaine glared at Ray like it was his fault, female solidarity there, dumped the files on his desk and helped me limp away. I tried to gather my dignity, but it’s hard with a room full of cops staring at you, a broken shoe, your makeup running, and an arm around your waist from someone you’ve just fallen head over heels for.

 

Damn, damn, damn. I thought I’d grown out of girl crushes. I’d confessed all that, been given penance and absolution, and sworn off lusting after the ladies. Back then I still thought it was a sin. Now – well, now I think not loving Elaine would be the sin, but back then I didn’t even know her name. Just that I was leaning on her, and the arm around my waist that she was steadying me with was sending zings and zips and shivers all through my nerves.

 

By the time she’d sat me down in the break room and got me a soda I’d pulled myself back together, a little bit at least. I fished the compact from my purse and hid behind it, trying to fix my ruined makeup. This might be a job for the ladies’ room, I’d made quite a mess of myself.

 

Elaine pulled out a chair and sat next to me. I tried not to make eye contact, I still hadn’t got my ‘oh my God she’s gorgeous’ reaction under control. I mean, she _was_ gorgeous – _is_ gorgeous. By this stage, I’d got more of an impression than just beautiful eyes, warm voice, tingle-making arm. She was my height, and her glossy hair had so many more shades of black buried in its curls than I'd ever imagined. Made me wish for a moment that I didn't straighten my hair. Plus, her face was perfect. I don’t mean movie star perfect where it’s hardly even real. Her features were too strong for that, her expression too wry and funny. But, you know, the cheekbones, and lips and the beautiful, glowing colour of her skin. And yeah, those eyes, that smile. I think strong as she looked she was also the prettiest woman I’d ever seen. I mean, beautiful but pretty, too. The two things are different, and she had them both. She could have been a princess. If she had been she’d be the kind dressed like an angel with a bad-ass sword. I’d have been jealous of her if I wasn’t so completely floored.

 

So, I pulled my eyes away from her and kept staring at my own smudged mascara in the mirror, patting away at it and making things worse. I wished I was a thousand miles away; any minute now I was going to make an even bigger fool of myself and make a pass or something equally stupid.

 

“Are you okay?” she asked. I cleared my throat. I couldn’t not say anything, but I felt like I’d run out of words yelling at Ray.

 

“Uhm,” I managed. “Yeah. Sorry. I was a bit of a klutz in there. Having a bad day.”

 

“It happens,” Elaine said, and stuck her hand out at me. “Oh, hey. I’m Elaine, by the way.” She tilted her eyebrow, an amused glint in her eyes. “Gofer in chief.”

 

“Oh. Frannie.” I smiled and sniffed, tried not to come across too watery, and took her hand. Her fingers were slim and smooth, her palm was soft, her grip warm and dry and strong. I never wanted to let go. She was still smiling at me and I was getting lost in her eyes again. I swallowed and pulled back, ducking my gaze away. Shit.

 

“Did you twist your ankle?”

 

“Oh,” I repeated like a ninny, and flexed my foot, looking at the broken shoe. “Yeah, a bit. I’ll live.” I forced a laugh. “Those shoes were new though. Hope I’ve still got the receipt.”

 

“Hmm.” Elaine made a thoughtful noise in her throat. “You look about the same size as me. I’ve got spare in my locker if you don’t mind borrowing.”

 

“Oh.” Damn, I had to find a better word. I flushed, partly at how stupid I sounded and partly at the thought of wearing her shoes. I mean, her _feet_ had been there. I couldn’t see her feet, she was wearing sensible closed pumps, but I bet they were as perfect as the rest of her. I had a desperate urge to paint her toenails. I cleared my throat, meaning to say ‘no, that’s alright,’ but what came out was “yeah, yeah, that would be great.” Because, if I borrowed her shoes I'd have to give them back, right? So, I'd see her again and....

 

Damn. I was royally fucked.

 

Still, I couldn't regret it. She beamed at me, like lending me her shoes was the best thing that had happened to her all day, and practically ran to get them for me. And somehow between trying them on and walking around the break room we broke the ice and just started to talk. It turned out that her shoes fit just right, which must have been some kind of metronome. Metaphor, minotaur, oh, I don’t know. Because in the end, of course, we did fit together perfectly. We do. Though, to be honest, it took us a while to figure it out. I mean, this is a really long love story, and I'm only talking about the beginning here. At the time though I had no idea we’d ever – you know – fit.

 

But the shoes did fit, we fit. Even though they weren’t my usual kind of shoe – sensible isn’t my style – they were so comfortable. All day long I walked around in them feeling dazed and smiling at my feet. My feet tingled – she had lifted them up into her lap and checked for injuries. She’d closed her hands around my sore ankle and squeezed gently, wincing in sympathy with me when I flinched. When she finished she’d trailed her hand over the bridge of my foot before letting it go. It made my insides feel funny and gave me thoughts. So, I spent all the rest of the day with my heart in my boots, only in a good way, not what that normally means. What did we talk about? Jeeze, I can't remember it all. We did talk about anniversaries, bad days and exes, I remember that. And we agreed that ice cream should be available on prescription. When she got up from her unplanned break she dropped a hand on my shoulder and squeezed, smiled at me again. Wow. That smile.

 

“See you later?”

 

Well, what do you think I said?

 

The whole rest of the day I kept thinking about seeing her after work, so I could return the shoes. It was a Friday, and we were going out for drinks. I kept feeling her breath on my face from when she took over my makeup repair for me and hearing how her voice had dropped when she finished with the mascara and said: “there, pretty as a picture.”

 

How could I not be having hopes?

 

Ray noticed of course. He stomped in the door looking like a very tired man and cornered me in the kitchen. “Okay.” He glared at me. “Who is he?”

  
“He?” I stalked to the counter, plonked down my mug of coffee and looked innocent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“You met a guy at the station. Either that or you’re stoned. Which is it?”

 

“I didn’t meet a guy,” I informed him, smug because it was true, “and I don’t take drugs.” I smirked. Couldn't help it. “Cocktails don’t count.”

 

“You’re meeting someone for cocktails?” He had his detective gaze on. “If it’s Gardino I’ve got to warn you, all his exes – and there are a lot of them – say he’s crap in bed.”

 

“I don’t even know who Gardino is,” I pointed out. “It’s the first time I’ve even been in the building.”

 

“Good.” He paused, looking me up and down. “Is it Jack?”

 

“It’s not Jack,” I said, though I did know who Jack was – you couldn’t miss him, six foot and then some, best-looking man in the building and with a voice to die for. He could have looked like a turnip and you’d still swoon for that voice. He’d come into the break room while Elaine was checking (caressing?) my foot, and exchanged a few words – you’d think he would be more my type, but Elaine had got there first. I smiled a bit at the memory of her fingers dark against my skin, and tried to imagine them moving higher….

 

“So,” Ray cut in on my fantasy. “You did meet someone.”

 

“What?” I replayed what I’d just said and the penny dropped. ‘It’s not Jack’ was a confession, or at least Ray could read through it. He knew me. ‘Not Jack’ meant ‘yeah, but someone else.’ Crap. “Hey,” I blustered. “I didn’t say that.”

  
“You didn’t need to.” Ray’s lip curled and his voice was surly. “I know the look.” He sighed. “Just tell me who it is so I can look out for you, okay? I promise not to break his kneecaps.”

 

I blushed so hot my skin prickled – I never blush, and I’d been doing it all day. Ray’s gaze focussed harder on me – it was like laser sights or something. I squirmed and looked at my feet. Ray looked down, and then –

 

“Oh, shit.”

 

I glanced up quickly and he was staring at my feet in Elaine’s shoes. His jaw was hanging open. My insides went cold and slithery. He knew. For a second there I thought I was going to wet myself. He blinked and looked away.

 

This wasn’t going to be an argument, I thought, this was going to be an all-out apocalypse. Finally, the nuclear button was going to be pressed. Nothing was ever going to be the same again. Ma might never even let me back in the house if she found out. My mouth was dry and I had nothing to defend myself with. Ray looked back at me and I braced myself.

 

“Frannie,” he said, and his voice shocked me, it was so gentle. “Frannie, if it makes you happy, go for it.”

 

For the longest time, I just stared at him. After about a hundred years I managed to squeeze out words. I was so clenched up inside that they hurt my throat on the way out. “She doesn’t know I… she… I mean, I’m just giving her back her shoes. She doesn’t know I’m… uh… I mean, I didn’t know I…”

 

He gave me a swift, lopsided smile. “If it helps, I know she’s single. And I think I’m the only one at the station knows she swings both ways. If you two did end up an item I’d not give you any grief.”

 

She swings both ways? A sharp hope that felt exactly like fear stabbed at me; I was dizzy with it. “But… Ma…”

 

“What’s it got to do with Ma?” Ray shrugged. “Come to that, what’s it got to do with anyone? And don't get all of a twist about what the Church says. Nothing to do with them either.”

 

“Are you…” I swallowed. I could hardly believe this. “Are you giving me your blessing?”

 

“When did you ever need it?” He snorted and gave me a brusque one-armed hug, then stepped back, rubbing his bald spot. “But yeah, for what it's worth, you got it.” He was saying all the right things, but he had that big brother embarrassed face on him all the same, kept looking away then back again and trying to smile. Figured, men don't really do feelings. Not in my world at least. And Ray definitely didn't do heart to hearts. Maybe I'd slipped into an alternative universe or something. Seriously, Ray didn't hate this? It was like I'd never known him, not all of him at least. Maybe we'd been too busy shouting to listen to each other. I was listening now. “You got good taste at least." He coughed. “If it had been one of the guys I work with I’d have been worried. Elaine? She drives me nuts, but she’s good people.”

 

I blinked hard, looking back down at Elaine’s sensible shoes. “You think I have a chance?”

 

“Hey,” he said. “I’ve been working with her all day. She’s got the same moonstruck face you do. I figured she’d met someone.” He shook his head. “Didn’t figure _you,_ but she’s got good taste too. So, yeah, I think you have a chance.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Really. Now, go upstairs and get ready for your date.”

 

“It’s not a date.”

 

“Yeah, right.” He rolled his eyes. As I turned and ran to the stairs he called after me “and wear something classy. Like a skirt that’s not a belt. You don’t want her thinking you’re a tramp.”

 

I couldn’t help it. “Screw you, Bro, I’ll wear what I like.”

 

I swear we were both laughing as I slammed the door.


End file.
